Then War it must be
by Shiftember
Summary: A new faction in the forest is forced into war with Redwall Abbey. Reads like a WW2 fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Major Olebrud looked on in satisfaction at the sight in front of him. An assembly line of metal parts rattled across the room, a large number of hares moving some of them to another rattling line. Machines welded stamps of steel together, while drills bored grooves in gun barrels.

The hare standing next to him fidgeted from one foot to the other, but he paid no mind. He was too busy relishing the sight before him. It had been built by him and his crew, all of it. The factory, the machines, everything. More and more beasts had come to join his clan, whole families swelling the ranks of his ever-growing army. Five more factories were under construction, while another would be open for service in a mere week.

Even the territory that he controlled had grown, ever increasing as scouting parties' claimed unoccupied land for service. Mines, lumber mills, and granaries had also shot up, providing for civilians and military personal alike. But it was his next, large goal that he was focused on. Seizing the fertile farming lands surrounding Redwall Abbey.

He had no wish to go to war with this great place. They had thwarted other armies for hundreds of years, over and over again. Unfortunately, this had led to the development of a very interesting people.

At first glance they were a peaceful group, but the many years of war had hardened them, and their ability to raise a military at a single command was completely heartfelt. The old abbey had been heavily fortified for the sake of beating the armies of vermin again and again.

But he was building an army of his own, just in case. Because the Black Berets, are always prepared.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Abbot Arber took a great gulp of fresh air as he tore the oxygen mask away from his face. Slowly, he lowered himself down onto the wing of the aircraft, and slid down to the ground. A team on moles ran up, checking the magnificent machine to make sure there were no problems. One mole came up to the abbot, holding a cup of steaming tea. "Hurr, he you are zir. Any problems on the de flight zir?"

"None whatsoever Moby. Flies like a charm, smooth in the turns, good rate of fire."

He stared lovingly at the plane, then forced himself to look away. "Nothing spectacular happen while I was gone eh?"

"Ee' dibbuns was ah actin up, hur aye, but that be all zir." The abbot nodded. "Good, very good. Now why don't you go over and help foremole with checking that engine. Go on now." The mole put a paw to his snout, turned, and headed back towards the other moles and the plane. The abbot continued on his way towards the abbey. Just as he had reached the wicker gate on the southern side, he felt a pat on his back. He turned, and found himself looking up at a massive otter.

"Hello father abbot, I trust your flight in my airplane went well." Arber chuckled, wagging a finger at the otter. "Now Brendall, don't take this to harsh, but the engine design is terrible. I could barley get it off the ground." "Don't try to pull my leg abbot, I wasn't a dibbun yesterday, ya know. I saw you up there, doing loops and such."

The mouse chuckled again. "Oh I can't get anything past you can I. Yes, it works marvelous. What do you call it?" Brendall grinned, enjoying the moment. Abbot, that there plane is called a P-40 Rabbit." He leaned down and whispered. "Just make sure that none of the hares find out about it, they'd probably have MY guts for garters." He straitened back up. "Anyway sir, should I get more in production immediately?" Abbot Arber sighed. This was the part he hated. It was times like these when he remembered why that plane had been designed, or what all the different buildings outside of the abbey made inside their walls.

"Yes, start production immediately." With a sigh, he walked though the gate. Several other abbey animals threw greetings his way, but he answered none of them. Finally, he reached the library, where he retired to his special corner. He noticed that Huck the squirrel, the abbey recorder, wasn't there. "Must be out taking an inventory." He muttered to himself. His mind wandered back to the time when the abbey was known as a place of quiet peace. But after the attack from the marlins, twenty years ago, when the whole abbey had nearly been destroyed, the creatures that remained realized that the woods were ever increasing with vermin, and to continue on in their peaceful way, they would need to have a hardened core.

Thus the ADM, AbbeyDefenseMilitere, was formed. As the number of vermin attacks increased evermore, so did the ADM. At the current time, there were six different, regular divisions, one brigade, three regiments, and nine lengths. Technology had also evolved in the last twenty years. Now, they had planes, tanks, and guns. So much violence. And not just towards the vermin. In order to build the building to support the economy, the redwallers had needed to cut back their beloved forest. And they had. Now, for almost ten miles around the abbey, there was not a tree to be seen. Many other peaceful creatures had migrated to the Abbey, making their home. Farms had shot up all around, and factories were built to produce the goods for the ADM.

As he thought of these things, Abbot Arber started to drift back into sleep.


End file.
